


Once, Twice, Three Times

by HollyLeah



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: ;), Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Ass to Mouth, Choking, Come Eating, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Daddy Kink, If Peter getting fucked by (some) members of the Avengers isn't your cup of tea then don't read, M/M, Most of this is Spideypool just so y'all know, Peter Parker is a Good Boy, Peter Parker is flexible, Peter contradicts himself a lot, Peter is 17, Size Difference, Size Kink, They both like each other but they're idiots so, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Unsafe Sex, Voyeurism, Wade Wilson Takes Care of Peter Parker, be aware of that before you continue, i don't know which one to use, man-handling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyLeah/pseuds/HollyLeah
Summary: “How about - next time, if you can catch me - I’ll let you see what’s under my mask. That sound good?”*REVISED VERSION AVAILABLE NOW*





	Once, Twice, Three Times

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I'm planning on doing a massive edit on this. If you're reading this, would you guys mind if I just took out all of sex parts that aren't Spideypool? I don't even like those pairings idk why I wrote them in so heavily. But yeah. Let me know, please. Now back to your regularly scheduled program! Tumblr linked in the end notes.
> 
> This IS a mainly Spideypool fanfic. It just has some other pairings involving Peter because he likes sex and isn't ashamed of that fact. A lot of this is just shameless smut. I would apologize but you're the one who clicked on a 17k story tagged as such. Obviously you don't mind all that much. 
> 
> Also I wrote 95% of this while sleep deprived, so although I've edited this story to filth I might have missed something. Don't sue me I had to take a gap year bc I couldn't afford college what makes you think I can pay you.

The first time Peter got fucked, he was a freshman.

 

His history class had been doing partner projects on ancient civilizations and he was the unluckily soul that got paired with Flash Thompson. Flash, the one person Peter could say without a doubt he _intensely disliked;_ the one person who had been bullying Peter since before Uncle Ben died.

 

The assignment had been due at the end of the week, and Peter had had _much_ more important things to do with his time than hang out with Flash during school, and so, very reluctantly, Peter invited Flash to his house after school that day to work on it. It was better to go ahead and get the torture over with, he thought.

 

He hadn’t actually expected Flash to say yes.  

 

So, a little over two hours later Peter was letting the literal bane of his existence into his house right as Aunt May was leaving it. Which had taken away any sense of safety he had been hoping to have. Joy.  

 

“I have an appointment, sweetie,” she’d said as she kissed her nephew’s cheek. She smiled politely at his classmate, knowing full well who it was but unwilling to show obvious disdain for a teenager, and left. Flash had whistled, slow and cocky and _oh so annoyingly _,__ and smirked, 

 

 _“Damn._ I have _got_ to get a piece of _that.”_

 

“You’re not gonna screw my aunt, jackass.”

 

“Oh, yeah? And what are you gonna do to stop me, Puny Parker?”

 

Next thing Peter knew, Flash was pounding into his ass from behind while Peter discovered his new favorite hobby.

 

It became sort of like an itch after that. He would be totally fine, going about his day as normal, when suddenly out of nowhere he couldn’t function at full capacity until he had a dick up his ass or a cock down his throat. Fortunately for Peter, Flash had the itch, too, though his came with a whole lot more macho-man mannerisms and homophobic prejudices. Thankfully, he never threw around hateful slurs (almost like he realized how hypocritical that would be), and he never failed to abandon his inhibitions as soon as Peter got a hand around his penis.  

 

At first, it was just him and Flash letting off steam for a few months. And it was fine like that, really. Flash was a good lay, as much as it begrudged Peter to admit it. The guy _had_ bullied him for years; admitting that he liked anything he did left a bad taste in Peter’s mouth.

 

Then Peter went to his first party with Ned in the middle of freshman year. Well, that is to say, he _showed_ up with Ned; he _ended up_  riding some random Junior’s cock in the upstairs bedroom. Twice.

 

After that, his track record in the sex department became a little (read: a lot) more substantial. Flash still fucked him on occasion, but their meet ups declined until they were few and far between. Honestly, Peter was kind of thankful for that new development. It became a lot easier to handle life at school when his main source of dick **wasn’t** also his main source of pain. In his place stood a long line of hot, muscular dudes who fucked him like it was going out of style, a handful of which were always available on the off-chance Peter needed a quickie.

 

Best of all, it wasn’t even _weird._ Half the guys he took were “straight” guys who wanted to keep it a secret while the other half were fellow LBGT+ that were just looking for a good time. Yeah, he got the occasional “slut” and “faggot” thrown at him, but who was the real winner here? The lonely as fuck high school kid with Unresolved Sexual Tension stamped on their forehead in bright red ink, or the so called “slut” who was getting his tension and stress fucked out of him whenever he wanted? Check and mate.    

 

And then, the most amazing thing happened. _He joined the Avengers_.

 

At first, Peter was too awestruck by the fact that he was _hangin’ with the Avengers on the reg_  to really notice anything, but after the initial hero-worship wore off, it hadn’t taken Peter long to notice that although they were in-arguably Earth’s greatest defenders, they were kinda…really bad at getting laid. Like, watching-Steve-strike-out- _yet_ - _again_ -because-he-kept-talking-about- **Bucky** levels of suckage.

 

As such, the amount of unresolved sexual tension hanging around the Tower was almost suffocating. Seeing the team get progressively more and more agitated with each other due to their own pent up urges was kind of painful to look at, if he was being honest. It made Peter himself feel like he hadn’t gotten laid in ages, which - never true. He had even tried putting them in positions that nine times out of ten led to sex, but every time they came away part of the 1/10. It was maddening.

 

It was starting to make Peter frustrated to the point of desperation when he had an idea. Getting the Avengers to try and have sex with others was - **yeah,** but maybe getting them to have sex with each other…

 

That idea had been tossed out the window the exact second Peter suggested the idea to Mr. Stark. His mentor hadn’t talked to him for a _week_ after that. So with that idea out of the question, he was back to square one. The tension square. The square that he was getting _really fucking tired_  of being in.

 

So, in order to try and left off a bit of his own steam, he called up one of his many hook-ups and asked if they ever wanted to fuck in the Avengers Tower. All while using his internship alibi, of course. It had been going swimmingly right up until the Avengers showed up, fresh from a mission, just in time to catch Peter getting fucked doggy style in the garage across one of Tony’s expensive cars. Embarrassing, yes, but it was then that it _clicked._

 

They could all just fuck _him._ From what he could tell from that moment, at least some of them wouldn’t be opposed; Steve’s gaze had lingered on his ass for far too long to be considered an accident before he jerked his bright red face away, and Thor hadn’t even bothered hiding his erection like a damn _legend._

 

Mr. Stark, on the other hand, looked like he had just caught his son in the middle of having sex (which is basically what he did), Hawkeye looked mildly disturbed, and Ms. Romanov just looked amused. Not surprising, considering they were all getting laid on the regular (Tony with Pepper, and Clint and Natasha with that threesome thing they had going on with Hawkeye’s wife). Peter couldn’t say he was too disappointed - it would have felt way too much like incest if he had done anything with Mr. Stark, Natasha didn’t have a dick, and Clint, while probably a pro at upside-down sex, was like a distant older brother to him. So, emotional-incest again.

 

Bruce had been the only toss-up player. For all the lab work they did together Peter still had no idea what the other was thinking.

 

After the guy who’d been fucking him high tailed outta there (once the initial shock at being caught had worn off, Peter had quietly asked if he could _please_ finish before getting yelled at. This particular guy just so happened to have had a huge begging kink and so, since Peter’s voice was still high and strung out from sex, the breathy tone had made him unconsciously thrust his hips forward. Tony had looked fucking _livid._ No one had ever pulled out of Peter as fast as that guy), he’d gotten the nonsexual tongue lashing of his _life,_ though he was thankfully allowed to put his clothes back on first. Thor had looked a bit put out about that.

 

Peter refused to preen at the compliment.

 

It was pretty soon after that that he propositioned everyone who’d looked interested, including Dr. Banner. It had taken a few days of reassurances and serious consideration, but Bruce had eventually come around. Everyone else had agreed first try.

 

Peter had gone to Mr. Stark last, not to ask for the older man to join in, but to make sure it was okay for him to basically become a sexual stress reliever for the Avengers. It had taken Tony even longer than Bruce to even _entertain_ the idea. He only started to _hypothetically_ consider it when Peter started pointing out whenever an argument or fight broke out that could have been prevented if the men had another outlet. A less violent, more sexual outlet.

 

Stark had finally agreed almost an entire month later. And that was _with_ Peter badgering him every day. He probably would have pushed it off indefinitely if Peter hadn’t been so insistent.  

 

That’s not to say Mr. Stark was completely okay with it. Tony had called a full on meeting to discuss it with everyone, whether they were planning on fucking Peter or not. Threats were issued, guidelines were laid down, punishments were put in place for anyone that **broke** said guidelines - it was a whole thing. Peter was glad when the issue had been settled (in his favor, too); not only was he now allowed to be plowed into by some of Earth’s greatest warriors, but all talk about his asshole and _**how wrecked it could get**_ was officially over and done with.

 

Needless to say, life at Avenger’s Tower had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

 

 

 

Peter moaned as Steve’s cock ran over his tongue and into his throat, reveling in the sensation of his own throat flexing around the intrusion. 

 

“Shit, kid,” Steve groaned tightly. One of his big hands gripped Peter’s brown hair hard enough to tingle and the Captain’s hips jerked forward, shoving himself even farther down into the tight mouth in front of him. Peter choked, but didn’t let up. He sunk down until the short distance between his mouth and the base of Cap’s cock closed and then stayed there, nose buried in Steve’s pubic hair. He opened his eyes, determined to make eye contact, and when it happened he bated his eyelashes innocently and continued moving his lips up and down the length of the other man’s dick.

 

It had been years since Peter discovered that sucking dick was like his equivalent of smoking marijuana, but there was just something about blowing _Captain America **himself**_ that made him weak at the knees and harder than rock. Not that it was any less enjoyable when he blew the others - it was just that…it was the _Captain._ His all time favorite superhero ever - barring Mr. Stark, of course.

 

It was fucking hot as _Hell._

 

Peter slid one of his fists down from where it had been clenched on the Avenger’s utility belt to grip at the base of his own leaking dick tightly. His orgasm was churning in his stomach, but he didn’t want to cum until after Steve. The taste of semen in the back of his throat was the best part of giving a blowjob, to Peter anyway; he preferred having its taste on his tongue when he got off.

   

Still. Steve was a people pleaser in the bedroom just as much as he was out, so Peter knew from experience that Steve liked it when Peter touched himself. Already preparing for Steve’s release, Peter slackened his grip and jerked his dick in time with the bobbing of his head. The slick sound of sweat-soaked skin slapping together filled the room and Steve’s breath hitched, his sharply defined abs tightening as Cap edged closer to orgasm.

 

Steve’s hand tugged on Peter’s hair in warning.

 

“Pull-pull off, I’m close,” he said breathlessly.

 

Peter internally rolled his eyes, but did it anyway. He pulled off slowly, sucking all the way until his mouth suctioned off the tip with an obscene pop. The teen had long since been a proud member of the Good Boys Swallow Club ™ since sophomore year of high school, but Steve always insisted on pulling out before cumming. It was kind of unfair (Peter really wanted to be face-fucked and pulled so far down onto his childhood hero’s cock his cum wouldn’t even touch Peter’s tongue on its way down his throat, was that too much to ask?), but he thought he maybe understood. Peter was only seventeen; maybe he felt a bit weird about cumming in his mouth?

 

Steve trembled as Peter licked a stripe from balls to tip and placed one last kiss to the spongy head. Steve moaned deep in his throat and Peter took that as his cue to curl a hand around Cap to finish him off.  

 

“Come on,” Peter moaned, voice intentionally higher than normal to stroke Steve’s ego, “cum on my face, Captain. I wanna feel you, _please.”_     

 

Steve choked and his hips fucked forwards - once, twice, three times - before he was cumming, hot strips of semen painting Peter’s face and dripping down his neck onto his chest. His hips stuttered to a stop, one last moan leaving him, and he stroked Peter’s hair in a post orgasmic haze.

 

Peter stuck his tongue out and licked at the wet cum on his face, humming contently at the musky taste coated his tongue and clung to the back of his throat. Peter shuffled closer until his face pressed into the ‘v’ of Steve’s hips before he started stroking himself in earnest. It wouldn’t take long; it never did. Being on his knees got him hard like nothing else, and having the taste of pure desire on his tongue was too fucking hot to him for him to last.

 

Footsteps caught his attention as someone else walked into the living room, but he kept going. It wasn’t anything anyone hadn’t seen before and it wasn’t Mr. Stark, so Peter didn’t plan on stopping. Steve greeted the person - Bucky, it seemed - but Peter remained exactly where he was, face pressed into Steve’s hip and hand attached to his cock. Bucky’s footsteps got louder and louder until they came to a stop directly behind him and a cool metal hand came to rest on the back of Peter’s head. He shivered.  

 

“I see you treated Steve well, little spider,” Bucky cooed. His prosthetic ran smoothly down from the boy’s head to his shoulder, stroking back and forth across the smooth skin there. A shudder wracked through Peter and he nodded jerkily, the hand wrapped around his cock speeding up.

 

Bucky’s grip got slightly tighter and what Peter _knew_ was the soldier’s fabric-covered dick pressed against the back of his head. “What do you say to me, you, and Stevie having a little more fun after you finish up, huh? Maybe I’ll have you suck me down while Steve pounds you from behind. Does that sound like fun?”

 

The imagery alone was enough to push Peter over the edge.

 

He came into his hand with a high pitched moan.

 

 

 

Bruce was the person Peter went to when he needed something more on the softer side of sex. Sure, he enjoyed getting fucked six ways to Sunday more often than not, who didn’t? But Peter was experienced enough to know that sometimes the hard and fast life was a bit…boring. A hard fucking never failed to get him off, but he didn’;t always want it that way.

 

Lately, Peter had been wanting a little change of pace. Up until now, very single time he’d had sex it’d been rough, been bruising, been more about reaching that pleasure tinged climax than truly enjoying the act. He’d found himself craving being fucked slow and steady, of being gently molded into pliancy and submission down to the very marrow of his bones. Craved being held close by someone that actually cared about him, of connecting with someone on an emotional level just as well as a physical one.

 

 _This,_ what he could do with Banner, was the closest he could get to that.

 

It wasn’t making love. Not even close, but…

 

It did for now. It had to.  

 

 _“Yes,”_ Peter moaned airily, the blunt edges of his fingernails dragging loosely down Dr. Banner’s back. Bruce’s grip tightened on his hip, a soft groan of his own filling the air as he rolled his hips just a tad bit harder into Peter, just enough to whisper blissfully over his prostate. The bed sheets rustled as the two men moved together; the bed itself barely creaked, the wooden frame gently rocking back and forth in time with them.

 

Another wave of pleasure glided through Peter as Bruce lifted the boy’s hips just enough to change the angle of his thrusts. The new position allowed the doctor to touch Peter’s prostate more securely, every push inside of him lighting him up from the inside, making Peter quiver and whine with every breath as Banner trembled above him.

 

Thick fingers threaded into his hair and Bruce whispered in his ear, “Are you close?”

 

A small grin spread across Peter’s face. Every time they had sex, without fail, Bruce would hold off coming until after Peter came. It had blind-sighted Peter the first time they’d done it. Usually people just fucked him until they got off and finished him after if he hadn’t cum already. Which he loved, don’t misunderstand. It felt good making someone else cum, and that feeling always made it easier for him to finish. The change of pace was nice, though. It wasn’t even planned; it was just something Banner did.

 

Peter thought it was oddly charming.

 

“Yeah, I’m close,” Peter answered. He was; he was _so close_ , right on the brink of falling head first into bliss. All he needed was one more push, one more change of pace, and he would tip over.

 

Bruce laid his head in the crook of Peter’s neck and placed a chaste kiss to the smooth skin there. “Alright then. I’ve got you.” Banner lifted himself up slightly, his hips rolling just that much harder, that much faster, and Peter unraveled, his orgasm finally washing over him as he gasped.

 

Peter’s walls tightening around Bruce’s cock did him in - it usually did - and Bruce gave one final push all the way inside and came into the condom.  

 

 

 

Fucking Thor was like boning a sentient whirlwind. It was apparent in every bite on Peter’s body, every powerful thrust into him, that Thor favored the more primal side of sex. Thor was a force to be reckoned with anyway, his fighting style geared more towards pounding his foes into the dust than anything, but in the bedroom? More times than Peter could count he’d found himself screaming out for Thor to fucking _breed_ him no matter how impossible and unwanted that particular request actually was.

 

Peter thanked his lucky stars it didn’t freak the man out; it usually just made the god fuck him harder.   

 

The door crashed with a resounding bang against the wall, Thor bursting into his bedroom without a care as Peter’s long, muscular legs latched firmly around the thickness of his waist. Their mouths tore at each other, horny and desperate, as the god kicked back without looking and booted the door closed.

 

Thor tossed Peter onto the bed and the teen bounced about a foot in the air before falling back down and landing hard against the jiggling mattress, giggling happily. It turned Peter on, being man-handled and tossed around like he weighed nothing, and Thor knew that. Peter remembered how Thor had been hesitant to indulge him their first time, all the way up until Peter had all but demanded Thor stop fucking him like a coward. Thor’s reaction to that particular quip had been _…yeah._

 

Just thinking about that night made Peter’s cock twitch in his jeans. He spread his legs obediently as Thor crawled on top of him, the god kissing his lean body all the way up to his pouting lips, the bigger man’s heavy weight pinning Peter to the bed in such a way that Peter wouldn’t be able to move unless Thor permitted it.  

 

Peter always felt like such a slut whenever Thor fucked him, but in a good way, like one of those soft submissive girls that gave herself up completely to her partner while being innocent and giggly the whole time. Peter never pushed back at all because _why on Earth would he want to?_ His legs always fell open with hardly any prompting, his body never failed to melt into a pliant mess, and his face always remained stuck in an expression of constant, uninhibited pleasure.   

 

_He fucking loved it._

__

“Oh, fuck me,” Peter squealed. Thor buried his face into the slim column of Peter’s throat and sucked what was bound to be a large purple hickey into his neck. That was gonna be hard to explain to Aunt May.

 

“I am,” Thor smirked. If the look on Thor’s face hadn’t been so damn charming Peter would have rolled his eyes and smacked his chest in irritation. Peter bucked his hips instead.

 

Large hands immediately pinned him securely to the mattress, and Peter was at full mast just like that.

 

Man-handeling was  _such_  a turn on.

 

“Come on, get on with it already. I need you in me, like, _yesterday,”_ Peter babbled, already close to becoming an incoherent mess in the sheets. He would have been more embarrassed had it not been for the hungry look that fell over the god’s eyes at his words. Thor pulled back to sit on his knees, then gripped Peter’s legs and yanked until his thick ass was cradled delightfully between Thor’s sharp hip bones.

 

“Strip.”

 

A harsh shiver raced down Peter’s spine and he moaned, sitting up so fast his head spun. Thor moved away from him, pulling off his own clothes until he stood completely naked by the bed. Peter’s thin fingers tugged the hem of his graphic t-shirt up until he was finally able to yank the fabric completely over his head. Thor instantly pushed him down to lay on his back so he could run his fingers more easily over the bumps and ridges of Peter’s lean muscles.

 

One of Thor’s hands swiftly rid Peter of his pants and underwear, the other coming up to squeeze down on Peter’s neck. Peter’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he melted completely into the bed, hips bucking up in pleasure. Choking was another thing he never knew he liked until he’d tried it. A senior guy had bent him nearly in half and basically choked his orgasm from him while the guy fucked him. That was actually one of the best non-powered lays that Peter had ever had. He just wished he could remember what the guy’s name had been so he could call him up and ask for a replay.

 

Peter’s slim hips ground desperately into Thor’s solid thighs as deep seated pleasure coiled low in his belly. He wheezed as Thor pinched at his nipples, biting his lip harshly when Thor bent down to mouth and suck at them until his nipples were crimson and swollen and Peter was a writhing mess n the bed.

 

Thor rolled into him slowly, grinding their bare cocks together. An unrestrained moan burned in Peter’s throat, and he draped his arms around the older man’s neck and yanked him down into a needy kiss. It was all tongue and spit, Peter happily bending his neck back as far as he could so that Thor could ravage into his mouth as deep as he wanted.

 

Thor usually got impatient right before he fucked Peter, so he wasn’t all that surprised when the god yanked away from him to snatch the lube off the dresser. He grabbed it with a triumphant huff that made Peter smile in mirth. With a smile of his own, Thor snagged Peter by the hips and flipped him swiftly onto all fours.

 

 _Oh, yeah_. This was gonna be a good one.

 

 

 

The frigid night air was a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of the Avenger’s Tower, but Spider-Man pressed on, determined to actually get something done tonight. The streets had been quiet for the last few days, almost zero criminal activity to speak of. It was making Spider-Man antsy.

 

Normally it would be fantastic if there were no asshole delinquents running around and causing trouble, like some type of Utopian YA novel where no one was sad and everybody was happy or some shit. But this was _New York!_ One of the most illegally active cities in the country, in the _world,_ even! _Crime things happened all the time!_  So this quiet, this peacefulness?

 

It was…wrong. Borderline terrifying, if Spidey was being honest with himself.    

 

The vigilante landed swiftly on the ledge of his usual stakeout building. He pulled his backpack off his shoulder and tossed it into the shadowy corner of the roof, too irritated to bother webbing it up like he normally did. The streets were empty, so it wasn’t that far fetched to think his pack was safe from being stolen. He walked to the other side of the building, the view from there facing outward into the usually busy streets below, and sat down, annoyed. “What the hell is going on,” he murmured.

 

“Spidey! Fancy seeing you here. Hey, do you like the peace and quiet? I thought you could use a little bit of a break.” a voice exclaimed behind him.

 

And just when he thought things couldn’t get any weirder.

 

Peter closed his eyes and groaned. He wished he could say he didn’t know who it was closing in on him, that he could claim _no officer I’ve never seen this man before in my life_ and be telling the truth _ _.__  But he couldn’t because against everything he wished was true, he knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

 

“Go away, Deadpool.”

 

Deadpool laughed boisterously as he plopped down beside Peter on the ledge, all broad muscles and deadly grace.

 

“I know you really mean ‘stay and never leave, Daddy,’” the anti-hero tossed back.

  
Peter rolled his eyes and ignored the way his dick twitched at the word ‘daddy.’

 

“Yeah, whatever,” Spidey huffed, “you keep telling yours - wait, what do you mean, you _‘thought I could use a break?_ ’”

 

A thick arm, bulging with muscle (Peter had definitely never touched himself to the thought of them, nope), draped across Spider-Man’s smaller shoulders as Deadpool mashed his forehead against the side of Spidey’s face. “Surprise! Pretty cool, huh? All it took was a little death threat here, a little black mail there, and suddenly every big bad in town stops committing crimes for a few days! Who knew, amiright? Think of this as a courting gift from me to you ;).”

 

Peter blinked. “How the heck do I know there was a winky face at the end of that sentence?”

 

The mercenary’s eyebrows waggled behind his mask, and Peter reminded himself to ask the other just how he managed to make his mask so expressive. “That’s just a little something I like to call ‘fanfiction magic.’”

 

Spider-Man nodded slowly, not really understanding but willing to go along with it anyway, until the rest of what DP said caught up with him. “Waitwaitwait. Go back. You _blackmailed_  people? To _not_ do criminal stuff? _What the hell, Wade?”_

 

The arm around Peter’s shoulders tightened and before he could react, Peter’s head was pulled into the crook of Deadpool’s neck as said man laughed again. “I know, right? Pretty ironic that it worked, too. ‘Two bads don’t make a right,’ your spectacular ass.”

 

Peter sputtered, face cherry red beneath his mask (Deadpool was hot, okay? With his muscles, tall stature, and the whole ‘dangerous but worth it’ vibe he put off. Sue Peter for wanting that inside him). He struggled and actually managed to pull away from the red-and-black clad super ~~hero~~  a few inches before he was yanked back against his side. He hated how turned on he was from that tiny show of strength, how his half-hard cock strained against the cup of his suit with hardly any prompting.

 

Peter subconsciously decided to be as difficult as possible.

 

Spidey crossed his arms with a huff. It was almost sad, how quickly he gave up when it came to Deadpool. He would deny it to the grave, but Peter had the tiniest sliver of a soft spot for the mercenary and he’d be damned if the other man felt bad because of him.

 

Unfortunately, with the lack of any criminal activity over the last few days, Spider-Man was a little frustrated. And now that he knew DP was the cause of it…

 

Well. That meant he was a little frustrated with Deadpool, too.

 

Another huff escaped the spider, this one noticeably more annoyed than the last. Deadpool halted his monologue on how people were _much_ more likely to cooperate when faced with death than anything else to cock his head in suspicion. He remained silent, though, which Peter was thankful for. The other enhanced human was somehow always able to tell when Spider-Man was _really_ annoyed or irritated, rather than playfully so or simply exasperated with him. The teen didn’t think he’d be able to hang around DP as much as he did if he didn’t.

 

“Look, Deadpool-”

 

“Wade.”

 

Peter stopped. “…Wade,” he said, albeit slower. It wasn’t the first time the mercenary had given up his name, but it was the first time he’d insisted on Spider-Man using it during a serious conversation. Spidey continued a little more cautiously. “I appreciate the sentiment - I _really_ do, I did kind of need a break, I’ll admit - but fighting bad guys is like-like my outlet, right? For when I’m feeling especially pissed off or riled up. So - since there haven’t been any crimes -”

 

“-You haven’t been getting your outlet,” Wade finished. Peter sighed in relief that the other man actually understood and slumped down, resting his elbows on his thighs tiredly.

 

“Yeah, basically,” he uttered.

 

A dark thought wormed its way into his head. Why was it that even though _he_  was an outlet for the _Avengers, they_ weren’t an outlet for _him?_  How fair was that? What kind of power dynamics were really going on behind the scenes? Maybe if the Avengers cared enough about him to be his outlet, too, Spider-Man wouldn’t be in this mess!

 

Peter immediately felt bad. Logically he knew that they wouldn’t refuse him if he asked, but that was the thing; Peter _never_ asked. Not once the whole time he’d been sleeping with the Avengers had he been the one to initiate anything, bar from actually suggesting it in the first place. Despite the tough front he put up when he was in the suit, Peter was still only seventeen, a hell of a lot younger than all of the other avengers _and then some_  for certain individuals. The anxiety he felt whenever he even considered going to them stressed him out to the point where his heart felt like it would burst right out of his chest.

 

The reason why was - stupid, especially since most of them had fucked him into the mattress by now, sometimes literally (that had been a pretty memorable experience; Peter still gets a little pink when he looks at Thor sometimes), but he just felt so _immature_ compared to them. Like if he asked them to be his stress relief like he was there’s, they’d smirk at him and ask him what a teenager had to be stressed about or something equally as insulting.

 

Which was very unlikely, considering they all knew about Peter’s stint as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, but still. Anxiety didn’t have to make sense. Neither did adults, apparently; sometimes Peter wondered if you somehow lost all memories of being a teenager once you hit a certain age. It certainly felt like that at times, _especially_ when it came to teachers. Don’t even get him _started_ on teachers.

 

“...yeah, I know I screwed up, White- oh fuck off, Yellow, you thought it was a good idea, too -”

   

Wade’s quiet mumbling snapped Peter out of his thoughts and back to the real world. He glanced at the mercenary, brows scrunched together, as he watched him angrily mutter to himself. Or, more accurately, at the boxes in his head. The whole thing was still a little strange to Peter, but who was he to judge? He willingly put himself in the position to become the Avengers’ personal hussy. Besides, expecting someone to apologize and hide their mental issues just because it made others mildly uncomfortable was stupid. He never, ever wanted Wade to think he needed to hide himself from Peter. With that in mind, he stayed quiet, waiting patiently for Deadpool to come back to him.

 

“...What, you want me to just let the criminals loose on the city all at once? Yeah, fat chance, guys-”

 

“That is about the **last** thing you should do,” Spider-Man quipped in response. Wade sharply turned to his head to look at him again and Peter blushed at the close proximity. Which was also idiotic, given how personal space had been thrown out the metaphorical window right around the time Wade had first caught sight of his ass. Meaning, the first day they met. Maybe even before, in Wade’s case.

 

Wade blinked (again, _how),_ then grinned triumphantly and threw his fist in the air with a shout.

 

“Ha! You hear that? Even _Spidey_ thinks that’s a shit idea, so you know it _really_ must suck. Point one for Daddy Deadpool, Point 1,356 for you guys. Oh, yeah, I’m catchin’ up! Suck ooon that.”

 

Peter giggled kindheartedly at the man’s theatrics. It had been awhile since he’d seen Deadpool, a few weeks actually, and he had been…lonely, without DP there. He’d missed him. **_Not that he’d ever admit that to anybody ever under pain of death_** , but still. He barely admitted it to himself most days, choosing to keep up the front that he hated Deadpool even though he really, _really_ didn’t.

 

A comical gasp exploded out of Wade’s mouth and suddenly Spider-Man was caged against the Merc With a Mouth’s chest by his (seriously fantasy worthy) arms.

 

“Aww, Webs! I _knew_ you thought I was funny,” Wade gushed. That caused Peter to let out another laugh, this one louder and more substantial. One of Spidey’s red spandex covered hands latched onto a firm bicep and patted it gently.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 

He enjoyed moments like this, where it was just him and Wade in this big, wide world. It always felt so calm and peaceful, no matter what emotions either of them were feeling at the time (except when Peter was angry - there was nothing calm or peaceful then). _These_ instances, though, where all they did was sit contently in each others company, were few and far between. Wade’s head was too crowded to normally allow such silence, so when they came around Peter cherished them for all they were worth.

 

Peter allowed himself a few more minutes of this, the playful hug turning into an intimate embrace the longer the two sat together. The air, although still just as chilly as before, no longer bothered him. Wade’s chest was warm and broad and **muscular** in a way that Peter knew his would never be; despite its firmness, Peter was pleased to find, it was a surprisingly comfortable pillow. Knowing deep down that he would think about this moment later that night, desperately clinging to his bed sheets while getting fucked by his own fingers or someone else’s cock, he let his hands trail down from his friend’s arms until they rested in loose fists, palms to leather, against Wade’s abdomen.

 

It always made him feel guilty, when he fantasized about Wade while getting fucked by someone else, but he just couldn’t help it. He could never stop himself from imagining when Wade, dark and intimidating against a sunlit sky, had taken down six people - without killing them - because one of them managed a hit on “his Spidey.” He couldn’t stop envisioning the exact curve of Wade’s smile from the first time he’d seen it, Deadpool’s mask rolled up over his nose while he ate. He could never _ever_ stop himself from remembering the time when Peter had dropped by DP’s apartment unannounced and caught the merc fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel around his thick, thick waist.

 

Peter had taken one look at that ripped physique and _wanted._           

 

That was also the one and only time he’d let himself admit he maybe had a little crush on the man. But only a little one.

 

…

 

Who was he kidding? Peter would gladly be with Wade even _if_  there wasn’t any sex involved.

 

Feeling it was time to leave for his own heart’s sake, Spider-Man shoved his face slightly harder into Deadpool’s chest and nuzzled - once, twice, three times - before pulling back with a sigh. “I gotta get goin’,” he mumbled. Deadpool whined unhappily and his arms tightened around him.

 

“Aw, do you have to?”

 

With a final squeeze, Wade let go, his warm hands gliding across Peter’s body the whole way. The teenager barely managed to contain a full body shiver at the lasting contact. Spider-Man pulled his legs up and stood with a groan as he stretched his arms across his chest, one at time, then languidly did a full body stretch that pushed his ass out. A quieted groan sounded beside him and Peter immediately knew why; he’d gotten multitudes of compliments about his ass in the past, whether it be by a one night stand or otherwise, and Wade praised Spider-Man on his booty at least once every time they met up. There was no mystery as to what exactly made Wade groan like that.  

 

Still, it was fun to play the part of the innocent virgin, so Peter cocked his head as he blinked owlishly at the other man and settled back on his heels. Wade couldn’t see his eyes, obviously, but it was a force of habit. He’d learned a long time ago that sometimes a pair of big, pretty eyes was all it took to make a straight guy say yes to a quick fuck. It had only failed him once, but that’s only because the guy’s girlfriend had shown up. Missed opportunities.

 

“Hmm?” he asked, “What’s up?”

 

Deadpool stared at him (his ass, Peter knew) before shaking his head with a chuckle.

 

“Uh, nothin’, baby boy. Don’t worry about it.” One of his gloved hands rubbed the back of his head and the spider _knew_ it was to detract attention from the rather sizable bulge in his pants.         

     

Peter licked his lips, once again thankful to his mask for hiding his expression. With the way his heart was pumping blood to his groin, he felt exactly like the innocent virgin he was acting as. Peter didn’t know if he liked it or not.

 

Wade didn’t have a cup in his suit ( _“I don’t wanna deprive anyone from getting the crotch shot they all want, Spidey. It’s just common courtesy.”_ ) which was bad for Deadpool but awesome for Spider-Man. It was way too easy to see just how Spidey stirred Wade’s blood in all the important places.

 

Peter mentally thanked Wade for giving him more spank bank material.

 

The hero shrugged. “Whatever, dude. And yeah, I _do_ have to go; I need to find some way to wind myself down, you get me? Since there’s no crime and all…” he trailed off. He was already planning how exactly this night would go. He’d swing home - he was closer to May’s than he was to the Tower - change, maybe get a snack, tell Aunt May goodnight, and then get into bed. Normal is as normal does.

 

It’s what he’d do once he _got_ there that _really_ needed planning. Did he want to slowly undress while he got more and more riled up, or did he want to fully undress before slipping under the covers? Lights on or lights off- no, definitely off. Easier to fantasize that way. Should he use the new toy he’d gotten or should he do it the old fashioned way and finger himself to completion?

 

Or maybe he could just say fuck it and make the longer trip to the Tower and see if anyone was still up, and out of _them if anyone was willing to fuck him senseless. He really felt like getting pounded mercilessly tonight (he always felt like that after seeing Wade), maybe Thor would be open to -_

 

“There any particular way you want to do it?”

 

Peter froze. Did he say any of that out loud?

 

“...any particular way of doing what?" He asked hesitantly.

 

Wade flung his arms out and scoffed. “Winding down, of course!” he reiterated. Oh. Peter felt himself slump in relief before he straightened back out, shaking his head.

 

“Oh. No, not really.”

 

Yes, definitely.  

 

“I was just gonna play some video games or something.”

 

 _Or something _.__  

 

“You know - work out energy the old fashioned way.”

 

Well. Guess that settled that question, then. Fingers it was.

 

Wade nodded slowly, looking for all the world like he was considering all the different definitions of ‘old fashioned way’. Or like he was listening to the voices. Either way, Peter really needed to leave before he busted a nut right then and there.

 

“Yeah. So, anyway, it was really nice seeing you, but I’m gonna -”

 

“Are you up for suggestions?”

 

Again, Spider-Man paused. It might have just been Deadpool trying to spend more time with the hero - which happened about every single time they met up, so it wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary - but it sounded an awful lot like he was being propositioned for sex. But that couldn’t be right. Sure, Wade was a huge flirt and voiced his appreciation for Peter’s _everything_ all the time, but he didn’t actually **mean** it. Besides, it probably just sounded that way to Peter because he was horny. Like, really horny. Meaning there was absolutely _no fucking way_  whatever Deadpool suggested would fly because Peter would probably jump him the second the mercenary so much as _glanced_ at his ass. Which was really unfortunate, considering Spidey’s little-more-like- _gigantic_ crush on Wade made him want to spend as much time with him as possible.

 

Oh, well. You win some, you lose some.

 

Spider-Man forced a chuckle and shrugged. “I mean, sure, go ahead -”

 

“How about I help you out?” Deadpool declared. Peter jolted and gulped. Okay, that _really_ sounded like a proposition. A really, blunt, really obvious one, too. But Wade said stuff like that all the time! There was no way he actually meant it the way it sounded. Peter took a deep breath and forced himself to appear unaffected.  

 

Spider-Man crossed his arms over his chest. He refused to acknowledge the move as defensive. “You mean by flooding the streets with criminals?”

 

Wade stood up, tall and imposing, and stalked towards Peter slowly as the teen spoke.

 

Peter swallowed thickly. “Right, uh huh, you go right on ahead and see how much the Avengers like that.”  

 

His heart throbbed in his chest. How many of his fantasies had started exactly like this, Wade a prowling predator and Peter his prey? Having his late-night fancies come to life in front of him made his dick twitch out of habit.  

 

By this point the two men were standing toe to toe, Spider-Man’s arms pressing against the firmness of Deadpool’s stomach. Just another thing that turned Peter on; his size kink was off the _charts,_ and Wade was a fucking _giant._ The top of Peter’s head barely brushed the older man’s _shoulders_ he was so big. Peter took a moment to imagine what it would be like if Wade picked him up and pinned him to the wall, how his own body would be dwarfed by Deadpool and entirely hidden from wandering eyes…

 

Peter needed to get out of there _now_ before he did something he’d regret. Like jump Wade right there on the rooftop, consequences be damned.

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they did,” the mercenary purred. Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation because _of course they wouldn’t like that_  when the man continued, “The Avengers and I seem to have the same tastes in… _other_ things, if you catch my meaning.”

 

Peter froze.

 

No way. There was absolutely **no fucking way**  Deadpool knew about his arrangement with the Avengers. That would - it would be absurd. There was no fucking way he knew. He was probably talking about something else, like - like how the Avengers and Deadpool all liked Spidey as a person? Maybe? Yeah, yeah, that had to be it. So, pushing past the anxiety coiling in his throat, Peter lifted his head to gaze directly into the stark white eyes of Wade’s mask.

 

“I don’t, actually. Unless you’re talking about taking down bad guys, in which case I thought that’d be obvious.”

 

Peter felt proud of himself. His voice hadn’t even shaken.

 

Deadpool laughed again, impossibly deep and _so much darker than the last_ and Peter was _weak._ Wade moved forward, booted feet oddly silent against the cement roof. Peter’s spidey sense flared up in the back of his mind, screaming out that the most _dangerous mercenary in the world_  was advancing on himand he needed to back up _now._ He cursed under his breath and stepped back further and further, heart racing, until his back hit the roof’s brick entrance with a dull thud.

 

Wade crowded him against the brick wall, pressing his body harder and harder into Pete until Peter could feel the decades-old brick biting into his shoulder blades.

 

“Come on now, Webs, don’t act all coy,” Deadpool cooed, “You and I both know **exactly** what I’m talking about.”

 

Oh, no. Oh, _no._

 

What the _fuck? What the fuck ** **what the fuck****_ -

 

“W-what? I-” Peter stammered. Shock coursed through his veins, rendering his voice box completely useless as he struggled to form words in some intelligible way to deflect the conversation, remain aloof, _something._ The stretch of Wade’s smirk was evident even underneath his mask as the mercenary nudged impossibly closer. He shoved one of his thick thighs between Spidey’s legs and splayed them open, moving to settle more comfortably against Peter. DP’s hands reached forward and tugged Spider-Man’s arms down until they rested languidly at his sides. Peter let him without a fight.

 

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, Spidey, it’s not that obvious.” Deadpool cajoled. Relief flooded through Peter’s systems and he slumped his shoulders. Okay, so it wasn’t noticeable, meaning that it was unlikely anyone else knew. That was good. But wait, then how had Wade-?

 

“Actually, I probably wouldn’t have ever found out if I hadn’t been overly curious about your sudden early departures from our meet-ups a few months back. I mean, they always started out normal enough - me being the dashing Merc With a Mouth and you being the bootylicious hero come to save the day - but you always left in the middle of our Mexican Food Extravaganza Fest. Which is _tradition,_ Spidey, you _know_ it is, and so I thought, _‘what the hell is making my baby boy skip out on our date? _’__ ”

 

A shiver ran down Peter’s spine. Dammit to Hell and back did that stupid fucking pet name set fire to Peter’s belly and swell up his cock in all the right ways. It had always been hot to Spidey, being called baby boy by Deadpool. More than half of his fantasies contained Wade fucking into him like the world was ending while calling Peter that damned nickname. It drove him _up the wall_ with need, which is why he always made sure to remind Wade not to call him that whenever he did. This time, though, his mouth stayed shut.

 

If Deadpool noticed his change in tune, he didn’t say anything, though his hands did drift down to grip at Peter’s hips possessively.

 

“So, one day I decided that enough was enough - I just _had_ to know where my itsy bitsy spider was goin’ all the time. Like, I would literally _die_ if I didn’t find out. I’d have an aneurysm. So when you inevitably left before our MFEF ended, I waited until I couldn’t watch your ass anymore because hot diggity **_damn,_** baby, and then I followed you.

 

“I know what you’re thinkin’: __‘_ how could you, Daddy? I thought I could trust you! _’__ ” His voice increased in pitch and sounded girlier than normal as he did his Spider-Man impression. Peter wasn’t amused.

 

“Anyways, you ran off to Avengers Tower and I remember wondering what the **hell** these guys had on _me_ to get you so ready to ditch me for them. But then, oh then, I scaled the building with my trusty heavy-duty suction cups and _there you were _,__  getting pounded into the mattress by the damn _god of thunder **himself.**_ **”**

 

Wade’s grip tightened on his hips and Peter swallowed down a moan. The older man’s erection pressed distractingly into his abdomen and Peter felt his mouth dry up. It felt fucking massive, like one of those monster cocks you see on porn sites or read about in corny romance novels.

 

Peter was hit with the sudden image of himself, down on his knees, choking on that enormous length as Wade face fucked him against the wall.    

 

“I mean, after I saw that - I didn’t look at your face, though, don’t worry - I backed off a little. You remember?”

 

Peter did. It had been horrible. Wade had been his usual self, cracking jokes and being an all-around nuisance, but he hadn’t been as touchy. Hadn’t seemed as interested in Peter as he had been. Spidey had thought that Deadpool had finally gotten tired of him. It warmed his heart a little to find out that wasn’t true.  

 

“I thought you and Hemsworth were a thing, yanno? So I put a lil’ distance between us. Not _miles,_ since I thought _what if he’d be open to a threesome _?__  I’m not a saint. Just like ten yards or so. But anyway, can you imagine my surprise when I go to _spontaneously_ visit you in the tower one day maybe, say, two weeks later, and I see you being the juicy meat in the middle of a sexual sandwich between Star Spangled Cock Sucker and less greasy Severus Snape? It was a _shock,_ let me tell you. At first I thought you were cheating on Token Shirtless Scene - which I very much did not condone no mater how sexy you looked getting fucked from both ends - but then, get this: I see him pass by the open doorway! _Like what are the odds?_ Ah, I love fanfiction tropes. _And he didn’t even look surprised! He actually looked like he wanted to join in!”_

 

Peter remembered that instance vividly. Thor _had_ actually joined them, though it had been much later when the afterglow had just started to wear off and the two super soldiers had been raring to go again. Thor had swept in, shirt already off, armed with a plan that had all four of them on board.

 

Peter was still a little disappointed he’d been too little for two cocks to fit in his ass.

 

They had made up for it, though. Who knew sucking two dicks at once while getting slammed from behind was _that much fun?_   

 

“So I’m sitting there, watching you get railed, wondering ****what the**** _ ** **hell****_ was going on, when it came to me: you’re Pretty Woman!”

 

What?

 

“What?”

 

“Pretty Woman! You’re like the Avengers’ very own prostitute, only I’m assuming they don’t pay you and you do it because you enjoy it, not because you have to financially.”

 

Peter blinked. “Did she do it for fun in the book? And I am **not a prostitute**!”

 

Deadpool shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I never read it. And I didn’t say you were!” He paused, “Oh, wait, I did, you’re right. My bad. But anyway, yeah, I knew you were getting all roughed up the ass by the second rate A-Team, but I sat on that information like a fucking chicken! Boy, oh ****boy**** , did I want answers - _thanks for the spank bank material by the way_  - but I _still_ feel like you wouldn’t have reacted very well. Probably would’ve strung me up somewhere and left me to rot…

 

“But now, _oh,_ Spidey, you’re standing here saying you need an outlet? How am I supposed to resist?”

 

Suddenly, his voice dropped from Wade back to Deadpool, from playful to dangerous, and Peter couldn’t contain his whimper at how fucking hot it was. “Well, baby boy, who am I to pass that up?” He leaned in, masked lips grazing Spidey’s fabric covered ear while his breath made the smaller boy shiver in antici-

 

“What do ya say to a lil’ bit of roughin’ up?”

 

Desire slammed into him all the way to his core and Peter barely managed a nod before his hands flew towards his mask to push it up over his nose. He barely waited for Wade to do the same before Peter yanked Deadpool’s head down and crashed their lips together in a frantic kiss. Wade moaned before he shoved Peter back completely against the brick building, completely covering the boy with his body. His hands, still gripping Spider-Man’s slim hips, pulled the younger up and around to cage his waist so he could more easily rut their pelvises together.

 

Peter responded with a needy whine and wrapped his long legs around Deadpool’s torso for better support and ground against the other man wildly. It was almost _too_ hot, _too_ overwhelming, Spidey trapped inside his boiling suit even though the night air was getting colder by the minute. All Peter could focus on was the drag of Wade’s lips against his, the grind of Wade’s hips across his dick, the sound of _Wade_ grunting with pleasure into his mouth. It was so little compared to some of the other things he’d done but it felt like so much more in a way that Peter couldn’t explain, couldn’t even begin to fathom the extent of.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Peter wailed. Wade’s hands convulsed on his hips and he let out a curse, meshing their hips together almost feverishly before sliding both hands back to palm at Peter’s spandex clad ass. Deadpool groaned and squeezed both cheeks in his hands. It almost made Peter laugh when Deadpool sighed like he just felt the .

 

“Oh, hell, it feels even better than it looks and you aren’t even _naked_ yet,” Wade gushed. Peter couldn’t stop the light giggle from trickling out this when it was cut of by a sharp moan.

 

“Mm, why don’t we change that?” the hero purred. He clutched his thighs even tighter around Wade’s torso and Wade chuckled darkly with a mischievous grin.

 

“Careful, honey,” he smirked, “you keep making demands like that and I’ll have to spank ya, understand?”

 

Peter jolted back at the threat on instinct but a large hand flew to his throat and **squeezed,** keeping him firmly in place. He couldn’t help bucking his hips even harder against the others thick cock, nor could he stop the chocked whimpers pouring from his slack mouth.

 

“Fuck, you are just _perfect,_ huh?” the mercenary murmured under his breath. It was obvious he hadn’t intended for the hero to hear what he’d said, but Peter had super hearing, so he heard it anyway. Deadpool snapped his hips forward again and nudged the cup of Spidey’s suit right into Peter’s cock. The pressure of it made Peter’s eyes roll back with a moan.

 

Wade grunted, “Yeah, does that feel good, baby?”

 

Peter nodded his head desperately as his body was assaulted by wave upon wave of bliss. Wade touching him like this was a _literal_ dream come true. It was almost surreal, having that muscular body pressed against his, his own smaller body lifted and supported like he weighed nothing. The daunting presence of Deadpool’s weapons hanging so close to him should have been terrifying. _Should have_. Instead it sent a thrill down Peter’s spine, a pleasant tingle spreading from the back of his skull to the base of his cock because _the single most dangerous mercenary in the world_ was _this close_  to fucking him. And, with the way things were going, it was incredibly likely that the weapons would stay on for the entire time.

 

That _really_ shouldn’t make Peter’ balls tighten up but here we were. Peter was so fucking screwed.  

 

“Come _on,_ Deadpool,” he groaned. His spandex suit, while normally comfortable around his important bits, had started to rub against his skin painfully and felt like a boa constrictor around his dick.

 

“Come on, Deadpool, just _fuck me already_!”

 

Deadpool stopped moving.

 

Peter felt like he got whiplash from the drastic halt. One second they were rutting together like animals and the next Wade wasn’t moving at all. Peter grunted in annoyance. What the hell was the other man playing at? Not up to humoring Wade, Spidey managed to grind down one final time before his hips were pinned almost painfully to the wall behind him. He wiggled, testing the hold.

 

Peter wouldn’t be able to move unless he tapped into his super strength.

 

And wasn’t that sexy as Hell.

 

“DP, what the hell,” he complained.

 

The mercenary smiled. “Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted, “Say my name we’ll keep goin’, sweetheart.”

 

Seriously?

 

Peter sighed. _“Wade,_ please,” he pleaded.

 

Again, Wade shook his head. “Close, but no cigar. Come on now, baby boy, don’t leave me hangin.’”

 

Now Peter was confused. So he didn’t want to be called Deadpool, understandable. He himself didn’t want to be called Spider-Man in bed (though he supposed he could make an exception for Spidey if it was Wade), but…he didn’t want to be called _Wade,_ either. But he wanted Peter to say his name? What else was he supposed to -

 

Oh.

 

Well then.

 

Peter felt his face flare up. He had never really explored this particular kink, except for in the comfort of his own room, when he was so overtaken by pleasure that he didn’t think about the real world effects of his desires, never examined the line between his rational mind and his pleasure-soaked one. _This_ kink, he’d never said out loud. To anyone. Not Thor, not Steve, Bruce, Flash, his various other hook-ups - no one. Peter gulped.

 

“Please…” Peter bit his lip, “…please, _Daddy.”_

 

Spidey’s head would have slammed painfully into the wall behind him if Wade hadn’t cradled his head at the last second. Scarred lips peeled his own soft ones open again as Wade’s tongue shoved against Peter’s. Wade pulled away, leaving one last sinful kiss to those pretty lips before diving down to bite into the long neck stretched in front of him. Deadpool sucked wherever skin was visible above the elastic of Spidey’s collar, blank space steadily decreasing until he was hard pressed to find unmarked skin.

 

Wade’s hand dropped back down to palm at his ass. Peter jerked forward and rubbed against Wade’s erection, pulling another moan from Wade and resulting in a rather harsh suck on his neck.

 

“F-fuck, Daddy, oh, hell, I-I need you, I n-need you in me, _please,_ Daddy-”

 

Peter felt more than saw the shit-eating smirk Wade pressed to his neck. If he were in any other position he would have had some **words** for him, but as it was Peter could barely keep his eyes open, much less form a protest. Wade gripped down on Spidey’s ass, wedging his fingers deep into his crack and stayed there, unmoving.

 

He waited, ignoring Peter’s pleas until his baby boy could barely speak, and only then did he tighten up his shoulders and _yanked._

 

Peter felt something sharp lightly nip at his skin seconds before the fabric over Peter’s ass ripped to shreds. He thought he heard Daddy say something about really loving fanfiction tropes, but he was too far in his own head to care. The sound of his suit tearing should have made him angry, or at least shock his system enough to make him care a little, but all he did was moan lustfully as the cool air hit his warm skin. Mr. Stark was gonna give him hell for the tear later, but Peter thought he could get away with saying it was from a fight if he tore more holes in it and not just take him the one with his ass missing. Besides, this shit was _expensive,_ not to mention hard to replace or rip in day to day combat, so that fact that his Daddy had ripped it with his bare hands…

 

Peter had never been so turned on in his __life__.

 

“Oh, shit, oh shit, shit,” the spider whined. Wade chuckled and leaned in close to gently bite at the younger boy’s ear.

 

“What’s your name, baby boy?” he inquired softly, one hand moving to massage one thick ass cheek while the other ran up and down his crack. Spidey shivered.

 

“U-um,” he stuttered. Wade shushed him before he could continue.

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Webs,” he said, still gentle but with a hint of firmness that let the hero know Wade was serious about this, was giving him an out, a way to still have a little bit of control over what was happening between the two of them. It was that concern, that level of care, that made him break his anonymity.

 

“Peter. My name - it’s Peter.”

 

Wade stilled for barely a second before he relaxed, a truly genuine grin breaking out across his face that took Peter’s breath away, and smoothed a kiss onto the hero’s exposed cheek. “Peter,” he repeated to himself. He was quiet for a moment (probably listening to the boxes), still caressing and fondling Spidey’s butt, when he pressed in close, mouth relaxed and soothing but his words undeniably serious.

 

“How do you want this to go, Petey-pie?”

 

Peter considered his options. On one hand, every time they parted he wanted - no, _needed_ to be fucked rough enough for him to be able to close his eyes and envision it was Wade behind him, grunting into his ear and pounding into his ass over and over until he was a shaking mess on the sheets. On the other, the moment they had just shared was so sweet and calm, so close to the emotional connection he desperately craved that it was hard to refuse it.

 

He gazed up at Wade, big brown eyes peering out from behind his long lashes, and teased his lip with his teeth. “I want you to fuck me, Daddy.”

 

Peter felt Wade shiver all across the length of his body where they were touching and he groaned in satisfaction as Wade pressed back harder against him, the clothed bulge of his cock sliding to nudge along the crack of his ass. It was too far under him to see, but it was sizable enough for him to _feel._ Peter felt his breath hitch.

 

“You sure? You want Daddy to fuck you nice and hard?” Wade assured, voice dropping low again and causing Peter to thrust his hips like a horny schoolgirl. His movement caused the Deadpool’s cock to nudged in between his ass cheeks, pressing against the rim of his hole. Peter’s brown eyes flew open and he couldn’t stop the needy whine that escaped him. He nodded desperately, the threat of tears already burning his throat as he locked eyes with the whites of Wade’s mask.

 

“Yeah-yes, Daddy, I can’t wait anymore, please,” he begged. Wade smiled at him softly at the same time that he pushed his finger tightly against his boy’s hole. Peter yelped and a few of the tears he’d been holding back escaped from his eyes and flowed down until they soaked into the fabric of his mask.

 

“You don’t know how good it makes me feel that you want me so much, Petey, but we gotta prep you first or it’ll hurt. I’m too big to just push in.”

 

Another whine. “I know that, Daddy. I’m not a virgin, I just-”

 

“You just need to get fucked, I know, baby boy. I don’t have any lube, but I think I can make this work.” Wade pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek again and whispered, “Peter, I want this as much as you do, but I don’t have any condoms. My healing factor keeps me from getting STIs so I’m clean and will __stay__ clean, but I want you to be aware before we continue. You can back out of this any time you want, understand?”

 

A warm fluttering melted into Peter’s chest. Peter had heard slander against Wade from others, namely the Avengers, saying that Deadpool was a cold-hearted murderer who would do anything for money. That he couldn’t care less about hurting others if he got what he wanted in the end.

 

Yet here he was, holding Peter, looking out for him, giving him a choice on whether or not they continued. It was sweet, probably the sweetest anyone had been to him during sex _including_ Bruce. Besides, although he knew it was dangerous, Peter had fucked people without a condom before. So really, it was nothing at all for him to say, “I still want to do this, Wade,” just as quietly as the other had spoken to him.

 

“You sure, baby?”

 

Peter nuzzled into his chest. Wade chuckled.

 

“Okay. Here we go then.”

 

Peter swore he got whiplash, both physically and emotionally, from how fast Wade flipped him around to shove Spidey flat against the wall. Deadpool was suddenly flush against him, dick rutting into the crease of Peter’s ass as he chuckled low in his throat.

 

“Look at you, begging for it. So desperate to get on Daddy’s dick you don’t even _want_ a condom, do you?”

 

Peter could feel Wade smirk against the back of his neck. A bead of sweat slid down the teenager’s neck and soaked into the collar of his suit. He wiggled against the wall as much as he could to try and alleviate some of the pressure off of his half-covered length. The elastic around the base of his cock had been torn off when Wade had ripped his suit, and so as Wade bent his knees further to fuck in between his thighs, his ( _huge, holy shit_ ) cock slammed into the back of his balls repeatedly. Peter’s mouth snapped open with a shout and his slim hips unconsciously bucked back and suddenly the two were grinding against each other urgently, lost in the overwhelming need to get closer and closer until the only thing between them was their own sweat and cum.

 

“Stay still, baby,” Wade purred, the end note twisting into something just short of a growl. A gloved hand smoothed down the unblemished skin of Peter’s hip before groping one pale ass cheek again with a hard squeeze.

 

Peter moaned. Wade pulled back and for a split second Spider-Man was filled with panic; what if Wade didn’t come back? What if he wanted to stop? What if he was disappointed with how his ass looked outside the suit after all? What if he didn’t want him anymore?

 

A thud sounded behind him and for a moment he thought Wade had jumped off the roof in his hast when a moment later two large hands pulled his cheeks apart and Wade buried his face between them.

 

He yelped and jumped in surprise. Wade groaned with a curse as the action caused Peter’s ass to shake around his face.

 

The mercenary chuckled deeply, “Damn, Spidey, I used to think your ass was too tight to shake like that but _hell_ am I glad I was wrong, hot _damn.”_

 

Oh, my God. Oh, my _God._

 

It would be a lie if Peter said he’d never had his ass eaten before. Too many guys had shown an obsession with it for it to not have happened at some point. And he had liked it every time, talent be damned. One man in particular had eaten him out for half an hour before it got boring. But this…

 

Holy Hell. Wade could eat him out for _days_ and he wouldn’t complain even _once._ And Wade had barely even _started_ yet. Maybe it had to do something with how it was Wade -

 

Peter stopped that particular strand of thought before it could get too far.

 

A firm suck on his asshole pulled a squeal from Peter’s throat. One of Wade’s hands smacked his cheek erotically before it trailed up and gripped at the smaller’s waist tightly. It was only then that Peter realized he had been grinding back against Wade’s face, desperate to get him closer, get him deeper.

 

Never before had someone made him feel this good while eating him out. Not even Falcon, the one and only time the Avenger had sought him out to see if he liked to eat ass or not (he had - he was just undeniably straight so nothing else came of the hook-up). That had been _amazing._ Sam had been the title holder for the best mouth he’d ever had down there…until now.

 

A heavy hand slapped forcefully against Peter’s thigh, pulling him from his thoughts with a shout.

 

“What are you thinking about, baby boy?” Wade cooed, a complete 180 from the harsh slap not a second before. Peter shivered. “I must not be doing a good enough job if you can’t even pay attention, huh?”

 

Peter was shaking his head violently before Wade even finished speaking.

 

“No-no, Daddy, you feel so good. I was- actually thinking about how you’re the best I’ve ever-had his way,” the boy stuttered. Wade shook his head and smiled fondly, and Peter craved that look like water.

 

“What a sweetheart.”

 

Wade dived back in.

 

Peter **screamed.**

 

It seemed to go on for hours, but it couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, Wade’s tongue insistent in his hole, poking and prodding and _pushing_ into Peter relentlessly, turning him into a fucked out pile of cum and mush. At some point Wade moved his hand off Peter’s waist to grip at one of his baby boy’s thick thighs, leaving Peter to fuck himself back on his daddy’s face unhindered. Thick fingers pushed in alongside Wade’s tongue - one, two, three - leaving Spidey a writhing, panting mess against the brick wall.

 

He could feel every inch of those fingers fucking inside him, the thickness of them filling him but not quite _enough_ and - and _oh_ Wade hadn’t even bothered taking his gloves off because Peter could feel that too, the drag of leather against his soft insides causing a pulse of pre-cum to dribble out of his cock head.

 

With one final suck and jab at his prostate, Wade pulled away from the hero’s hole to clamp his jaws down on one tight ass cheek. Peter could only muster up a tired, pleasure-filled whine and a sluggish roll of his hips.  

 

A grunt and the sound of boots against brick alerted Peter to Wade getting to his feet a second before the man splayed out across Pete’s thin back, winding his arms around Peter’s torso.

 

“You’re did so well, baby, my sweet baby boy,” Wade murmured into Peter’s ear. Peter felt himself relax against the mercenary, vision a little hazy around the edges, when a gloved hand slid down his torso to wrap around the base of Peter’s throbbing dick. A shocked gasp escaped Spidey and suddenly the real world came crashing back into his senses, the hum of cars cruising down the street, the tell-tale thudding of feet against the pavement below, the steady crackle of electricity pulsing through the electrical cables connecting the city.

 

And then there was them, Spider-Man and Deadpool, trapped in their own little world atop the high roofs and skyscrapers of New York. Peter hummed in contentment.  

 

Wade pulled at his hips until Peter got the memo, allowing himself to be turned around and tucked into the wide expanse of his daddy’s chest. A hand wound itself into the short hairs at his nape and gently pulled at the thin strands.  

 

“You still good, Peter?” Wade mumbled into his ear, “Remember, you can stop at any time.”

 

Peter huffed in annoyance. He understood what the man was trying to do - consent was important, after all - but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that his aching cock equated to a full-throttle, peddle to the medal _let’s fuck_. It was sweet, sure, but Peter was way too desperate for coddling. Wade needed to be in him like __yesterday__.

 

Peter took a deep breath and slid his hands up, running them over the defined muscles of Wade’s chest and took a moment to appreciate the hard pecs under his hands. He traveled further up, toying with bits and pieces of Deadpool’s suit the whole way, then grasped intimately at the twin katana straps criss-crossing over the mercenary’s shoulders. Peter tilted his head to the side and smiled shyly, biting his bottom lip teasingly.   

 

“Why would I want to stop, Daddy? You haven’t even let me taste myself yet.” Peter said. Daddy kink notwithstanding, Peter thought he had a pretty firm grasp on what Deadpool liked and didn’t like. He’d known him for a long time, now; it had become sort of like a game to Peter, figuring out random kinks about the people he was close to. Michelle had a dominatrix kink the size of New York, Ned wanted to be dominatrixed hardcore (and wasn’t _that_ an interesting pair?), and Wade, with all his alpha male posturing, loved his partners tasting their own desires on his tongue; he craved the power trip that came from having his partners completely at his mercy and the submission he received from feeding them the evidence.

 

Wade bucked his hips into Peter with a curse, deep voice dropping even lower with arousal, before his scarred lips stretched into a wolfish grin. The sight made Peter dizzy with desire.

 

“You’re right, sweetie. Sorry, baby, you curious? Wanna know how good you taste on Daddy’s tongue?” Wade replied. A spark of want ran through Peter when one of his daddy’s large hands cradled the side of his face.     

 

“Mm, yeah. Please let me taste myself, Daddy,” Peter said breathlessly. Wade hummed in amusement and Peter __knew__ his eyes were twinkling dangerously behind the whites of his mask.

 

Wade trapped Peter’s chin loosely between his thumb and index finger and tilted his boy’s head up until the long column of his throat was fully bared to Wade’s eyes. Deadpool grunted, tilting his head to the side in consideration. Peter remained where he was, refusing to move even an inch, wanting to be good for Wade just as much as Wade knew he could be. That’s why he was so quiet now, Peter guessed. His daddy was trying to figure him out, see how the next scene would play out.

 

The thumb on his face ran over the swell of his lips slowly, pulling down on Peter’s full bottom lip on its way to settle into the groove of his chin. Wade pushed down on it, an obvious order to open his mouth. Peter did, mouth falling open promiscuously, desire evident in the obedient stillness of his tongue as one of those thick fingers pressed against it.

 

It was hard to think with so much arousal in his veins, in his brain, trapped in an endless line of _pleasure pleasure pleasure_  with every slick glide of Wade’s finger sinking into his mouth, Wade’s dick rocking into the crease of his thigh. Peter decided then that it was much easier to just let Wade think for him.

 

“Keep your mouth open and stick your tongue out. Just stand there.” Wade demanded.

 

Peter moaned his consent.

 

Wade smirked devilishly. He leaned down, mouth open, sharp grin still evident in the upturned sides of his lips, and licked a long, thorough stripe along Peter’s tongue.

 

Peter’s knees trembled and his body shook with the effort it took to stay still. The musky taste of his own ass slid across Peter’s tongue, lighting a fire deep in his belly. Wade kept it up, swirling his tongue around his baby’s, trailing over healthy pink gums, running across pristine white teeth. Wade’s hand moved to press at where Peter’s throat met his jaw and forced his head up even more to stretch it as far as it could go.

 

Peter went limp in submission, an airy giggle escaping him as he opened his mouth wider, standing on his tip-toes to press his mouth more firmly against Deadpool’s. That’s all Peter did, though; his tongue remained slack against his bottom lip, his head stationed at the exact same angle his daddy put him in. He wanted to be good, after all. Wade couldn’t blame him for wanting to help a little more, could he?

 

Judging by the pleased smile Peter could feel against his lips, Wade didn’t.

 

Deadpool pulled away, a line of spit connecting their tongues together. Peter whined at the loss. He wanted more than anything to pull Wade back down, wanted Wade to lick into his mouth again, for Wade to bend him in half and take whatever he wanted until Peter was just a pleading mess at his feet. That amount of pure want was astonishingly knew to Peter; with his other hook-ups (minus the Avengers), Peter loved being dominated, sure, but he was always the one that really had control over the situation. Even with the Avengers he had a very prominent say in what happened to his body and who was allowed to do it.

 

He didn’t want control with Wade. His entire being was screaming at him to just **submit** to the other man, and for the life of him Peter couldn’t remember why exactly that was a bad idea.

 

He wanted Wade to just _take him already_ , but Wade wanted to take his time. That was fine. **This** was fine. Whatever Wade wanted to give him, Peter would gladly take. No matter how long it took.

 

Wade smiled down at him, looking so fond and proud, and Peter wanted to burrow into Wade’s large chest and obey any and every command he was given just so Wade would always look at him with that expression.

 

“You did so good, baby boy, doin’ exactly as Daddy told you to. I’m so damn proud of you, sweetie, so proud,” Wade praised. A shy smile edged onto Peter’s face and he scraped his upper teeth smoothly up his slick bottom lip.

 

“Yeah?” he breathed out, high on praise and on the taste of his own ass and _Wade_ in his mouth. His daddy hummed soothingly and dropped his arms down to encircle Peter’s waist completely, his hands moving to grip his ass cheeks loosely.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured. Wade planted a kiss on Peter’s masked forehead, lips grazing down Spider-Man’s mask until he reached a smooth cheek. Another kiss, softer this time, then Wade spoke, “You did so good, in fact, that I think it’s about time you get your reward, huh?”

 

Yes. Yes yes _yes._

 

Peter gasped, delighted, his hands moving to fist cutely at Wade’s utility belt while his head bobbed up in down frantically. “Yes, _yes,_ Daddy, please, I’ve been good, Daddy, I’ve been _so good_  for you -”

 

He was cut off with a kiss, scarred lips licking inside his mouth and tangling their tongues together. Peter felt his eyes flutter shut again and he surrendered himself over to Wade, handing over any last sliver of control he’d been hoarding in his chest because this, _this_ is what he’d been craving, completely giving over himself to someone who’d take _care_ of him.

 

And hadn’t Wade been doing that all along? Taking care of him?

 

Before tonight, even before Mexican Food Extravaganza Fest ™ became a thing, Deadpool had fought by his side, watched his back, made sure criminals didn’t get the drop on him, made sure that Spider-Man went to bed that night relatively unscathed. Once they’d gotten close - well, close **r** , Wade had started to feed him, started to make sure he ate everyday after that one night when Peter had accidentally let it slip that he forgot to eat a lot due to his patrols. Soon after _that,_ Wade had become his confidant, would sit next to him quietly and let Spidey rant at him, let him unleash all his feelings and pent up emotions, made sure Spidey knew that he _had_ someone.

 

Wade had been Peter’s daddy long before tonight and Peter hadn’t even noticed.

 

That realization knocked the air from Peter’s lungs like a bullet and he was _desperate._

 

A whimper burst out of his throat and he broke the kiss, already anticipating the annoyed frown dancing on Wade’s lips. Using the utility belt as leverage, Peter pushed himself into the air until his legs caged Wade’s hips between his thighs, arms stretched taught between his legs and his head resting slightly above Wade’s. He leaned down and captured Wade in a kiss, a quick and dirty one that left Peter reeling, before he whispered into Wade’s mouth,

 

“Daddy, I _need_ you.”

 

Maybe Wade sensed the longing laced through his words, the desire coating his very being, because he didn’t mention his sudden change in attitude. He only sighed softly and kissed Peter on the lips chastely.

 

“Okay, baby. Let me make sure you’re still stretched out enough -”

 

_“No.”_

 

Wade stopped and the hand that had been edging in between Peter’s cheeks froze, hesitant for the first time that night.

 

“Petey, I need to make sure -”

 

“It’s _fine,_ I’m _fine,_ please -”

 

**_“Peter.”_ **

 

A lump formed in Peter’s throat and he barely contained a sob. He felt too full, his emotions all out of wack with _Wade,_ how happy Wade made him, how good Wade treated him, how Wade was the answer he’d been craving for so long that now that he was _here_ Peter was  desperate to have him, scared that one wrong move would make Wade pull away and leave him empty on their rooftop. He needed Wade to make it better, to show Peter he wasn’t going anywhere, but to do that Wade had to be _in him_  and he _wasn’t_ so _he could still ** **leave him****_  -

 

A gloved hand gripped the side of his head, thumb pressed into his temple while the rest of Wade’s fingers slipped under his mask to tangle in the thick strands of his hair.

 

“Hey, hey, come back to me, Petey. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

 

Wade’s thumb stroked back and forth, both calming Peter down and grounding him back to reality. Peter took a deep breath, shaky as it was, and swallowed thickly.

 

“...I - I…” Peter trailed off, feeling lost like never before, like a broken satellite floating mindlessly through the cosmos without an inkling on how to get home. Something rough nudged at his forehead and he opened his eyes (when had he closed them?) and saw _Wade._

 

Wade was pressed in close, intimate in a way he hadn’t been before, his masked brow resting on Peter’s own as he took the hero’s weight fully, supporting him physically just as well as he was mentally.

 

“Peter, I need to know if you still want this.”

 

Peter remained silent. He didn’t know what to say. His mind was racing, unfinished sentences and muffled screams all leading to one continuous jumble of a thought: _I don’t want you to leave _.__

__

“Peter, you need to answer me, okay? If you don’t then I -”

 

“...please…”

 

A beat.

 

“...‘please’ what, Peter?”

 

Spidey’s jaw trembled.

 

“I just - _I need you._ I don’t - I don’t know how else to say it.”

 

Another moment of silence passed before Wade let out a sigh, small and quiet and unquestionably sad. Peter hated it.

 

“Okay, Petey,” he murmured, and Peter wouldn’t have been able to stop the relieved slump of his shoulders if he’d tried, “but in order for that to happen I need to open you up again - _**no exceptions**_ ** _ ** _._**_**  I know I already stretched you good earlier but that was earlier. Let me be a good daddy and make sure you’re ready for me, honey.”

 

The Peter of five minutes ago would have protested, _had_ protested, but the Peter of the here and now was too strung out to do anything other than nod pathetically against Wade and grip him tighter.

 

“Good boy. Now, grab my shoulders and hold on, baby.”

 

After his order had been carried out, albeit sluggishly, Wade quickly slicked up his fingers with saliva until they were dripping and returned his hand to Peter’s entrance to stick one wet finger in, quickly followed by second and then a third.

 

Feeling those fingers inside Peter slowly but surely stoked the small flame in his belly back into a roaring bonfire, and soon Peter was panting and squirming in Wade’s hold.

 

Wade swiped his tongue across Peter’s lips and licked inside, fingers thrusting into Petey’s ass in time with his tongue. He pulled his fingers free and Peter immediately felt empty. He ground forward into Wade with a whine as he clutched those broad shoulders tightly and yanked his daddy closer.

 

“Come on, come on, come on, Daddy, please,” he wheezed.

 

“Yeah - yeah, okay, baby boy, I got you.”

 

His hand still wet with spit, Wade grabbed at his own erection and squeezed, moaning low in his throat. The sound made Peter’s face flare red, a groan of his own falling from him.

 

Peter darted forward to steal a kiss and covered Wade’s hand with his own.

 

“Let me,” he whispered. Wade let his hand fall away with a curse.

 

With the moment he’d been waiting for finally right in front of him, Peter could feel his hand shaking in anticipation as he groped Wade through his pants. It felt massive, and Peter’s heart fluttered right alongside Wade’s shaky exhale.

 

Feeling emboldened, Peter hooked his fingers into the leather waistband and tugged down until the pants rested right underneath Wade’s cock.

 

Peter’s breath hitched.

 

It was just as massive as it had felt, not quite a monster cock but it was pretty _up there_  in the size department. It was long and thick, cock head tinged an angry red, bulging vein racing down the underside. It was just as scarred as Pete knew the rest of Wade to be, and Peter watched as a wad of pre-cum dribbled down the length until it dripped with a _plop_ onto the pavement below.

 

“Oh, _fuck me _,__ ” Peter groaned.

 

Wade chuckled, though it came out slightly strangled from need. “I’m workin’ on it.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes and gripped the base of Wade’s dick in retaliation. A drawn out moan was his reward and he smiled innocently.

 

“Then hurry up, Daddy.”

 

A curse followed, and then Wade was pulling Peter’s hand away so he could grip himself at the base, scooting his hips forward until Peter felt his ass cradled between Wade’s hip bones. Wade leaned in and kissed him deeply and then he was finally, _finally_ pushing in.

 

“Ohh, yeah,” Wade groaned.

 

Oh _fuck._  

 

Wade wasn’t even all the way in yet, only the tip having pushed inside, but Peter already felt so full, stuffed to the brim with affection and desire and the overwhelming _need_ to feel **Wade,** all of him, skin to skin, no clothes between them.

 

More and more of Wade slid into him, inch by inch, dragging unintentionally against Peter’s prostate until Wade bottomed out after what felt like centuries, grunting from the effort it took to not just slam in and _go._ Peter’s eyes rolled back into his skull.    

 

They stayed there, unmoving, breathing each other in, waiting for Peter to adjust to the cock inside him. Peter felt Wade’s hot breath against his cheek, Wade mouthing and biting at his skin, one arm wrapped around his back to clutch at his waist while the other pressed shakily on the wall by Peter’s head. A thought passed through him, hazy but prominent in a confusing compound of brain activity, that Wade was holding him up one handed.

 

And wasn’t that hot enough to chase away any lingering pain he felt with the need for Wade to __move__.

 

Peter whimpered and cautiously pushed down on the cock inside him, a moan escaping him almost immediately as Wade rubbed deliciously against his prostate. Peter clenched down, and Wade unconsciously thrust into Peter with a throaty groan.

 

“That mean you’re ready?” he murmured, hips undulating against Peter’s ass. Peter hummed and parted his lips in invitation, one that Wade took with a grin. Their mouths pressed together deeply and Wade sank his tongue into Peter’s mouth at the exact moment he shoved his dick back in.

 

Peter’s head snapped back against the wall with a crack and he **_keened._**  

 

After that, all bets were off.

 

Wade slammed into him relentlessly as Peter writhed against him, desperate and needy and filled with pleasure. Thin arms flung themselves around Wade’s thick neck and hung on for dear life, each push and pull inside of him so strong the bricks scratched his back through his suit. The hand around his back dropped down and clutched at one of Peter’s muscular thighs before pushing it to the side, stretching his boy’s legs wider and allowing Wade to get even deeper inside.

 

“Shit - _shit,_ please, Daddy, please, Daddy, _Daddy,”_ Peter babbled. Hot tears poured out of his eyes as he whined high in his throat, back arching away from the wall when Wade landed a particularly hard punch into the little bundle of nerves inside him.

 

The build up to this had been so much, so good, that Peter could already feel the warning of his orgasm pulling at his balls and at the base of his bobbing cock.

 

“Fuck, baby boy, you know, I’ve thought about fucking you so-” thrust _ _“__ many-” thrust _“times_  in the past few years but I _never ** **imagined****_ you’d feel this fucking good.”

 

A whine erupted from Peter as Wade’s thrusts turned almost vicious, each slam into him catching his suit even rougher on the bricks and scraping his back to pieces. The other man’s words went straight to Peter’s cock and his orgasm was so, so close he could almost taste it. Then his mind focused on the ‘years’ part of what Wade said and he realized with a jolt that he hadn’t told Wade how old he was. Seventeen was the legal age of consent in New York City, so what they were doing now wasn’t really that big of an issue, but if Wade had been thinking about him sexually a few years ago…

 

Peter pushed that particular can of worms away to be dealt with when he _didn’t_ have Wade’s thick cock in his ass.

 

Another hard jab into his prostate had Peter’s nails digging into Wade’s back, scrabbling across the leather suit desperately.

 

“Fuck - _fuck,_ Daddy, you feel so good in me, better than anyone I’ve ever had, oh, _shit,_ I’m so close, I’m already _so close_ , Daddy, I’m **_so close_**.”

 

Wade laughed gravelly and Peter could _feel_ it, felt it in the vibrations across his chest, deep in his very bones, and Peter needed to cum **now.**

 

“I’m-I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum, Daddy, I’ve been so good -” By now Peter’s tears were running down his cheeks in earnest, his mask too soaked to catch them anymore. Wade leaned in and licked up his right cheek, drinking in Peter’s salty tears, and Peter had to force himself not to cum right then and there.

 

Neither of them had said it and it might not even be an actual ‘rule’, but Peter wanted/needed Wade’s permission to cum. He needed to hear Wade, voice wrecked and drenched in arousal, telling him to cum, allowing his release.

 

Peter couldn’t stop himself from tapping into his super strength as he lifted his hips up and slammed himself down onto Wade’s dick, hopeless to the overpowering need to cum even though he wanted more than anything to hold off and be good for Wade. Wade himself was thrown off slightly by Peter’s show of strength, stopping his thrusts for all of a second before he regained his bearing, pistoning into the ass around him with renewed vigor.

 

“Heh, you really that - ugh - desperate to cum, baby boy? You wanna cum all over both our suits, absolutely ruin ‘em with your seed? Is that what you want, Petey?”

 

All Peter could do was nod frantically, one hand clutched around Wade’s bared neck and the other grappling for purchase on the thick katana sheath strapped to Wade’s back. His head was on fire, mind scrambled from so much crippling stimulation, and his body had long since started shaking from every single one of his nerve endings exploding into activity, short-circuiting his entire fucking existence.

 

“You _have_ been good for me, haven’t you?” Wade pondered, hips still leaving Peter a wrecked, crying mess, “Hmm - okay, then, baby boy, I’ll let you. Cum for Daddy. Let me feel you cum on my cock, go on.”

 

That was all he needed. Peter’s orgasm slammed into him and he screamed into the night air, body locking up and curving to touch Wade as much as physically possible, arms pulling Deadpool close enough that he could feel the frenzied beating of Wade’s heart in his chest, could hear his breath hitch when Peter pulsed around him, could taste the sweat on his skin when Peter leaned in and bit at Wade’s jaw.

 

He went limp, fucked out and aching, and relished in the feeling of Wade pounding into him roughly. Peter sighed in contentment, a satisfied smile curling the corners of his lips, and he tilted his head to rest against Wade’s as he was fucked harder and harder until his ass cheeks felt numb. Their lips brushed together, gliding over one other but not kissing, not really, the two of them moaning as they breathed in the same air.

 

“You are the hottest damn thing I have ever motherfucking _seen._ I wish I’d recorded that, baby, fuck, you sound so good when you cum, like a grade-A porn star that actually knows what the fuck their doing.” Wade babbled into his mouth, his thrusts turning to the more painful side of pleasure as he chased his own release. Peter only mewled weakly and licked at Wade’s parted lips.

 

“Baby, say my name, I need - I need you to say my name, _shit.”_    

 

Peter hummed and nuzzled deeper into Wade, clinging onto him like a second skin as he whispered, “Please cum, Daddy.”

 

Wade let out a long curse and his thrusts lost their rhythm, too close to the edge to keep it up.

 

“No, no, _baby boy, **Petey**_ **,** I need you to say my **_name.”_**

 

Oh.

 

Peter swallowed.

 

He exhaled softly, brushing his lips intimately against the sweet, scarred pair of his - _his_ \- _“Please, I need you to cum inside me, Wade._ ”  

 

With one final curse, Wade fucked into him - once, twice, three times - and came with a long, drawn out moan, his hips thrusting madly into Peter until his orgasm flushed out of him completely.

 

Peter and Wade stood there, gulping air into their lungs and holding each other for all the world like it would be the last time they ever saw one another. All Peter could hear was Wade panting in his ear, the fabric of his suit crinkling as Wade’s grip loosened to rest intimately at his spandex-covered back, the leather of Wade’s suit creaking as Peter released his own death grip on it to lay comfortably on the bulky material of the sheath.

 

Wade made to pull out, his booted feet shifting against the ground as he gripped the base of his dick and slowly slid out of Peter. Peter whined pathetically at the immediate empty feeling, wanting something to plug him up to keep Wade’s cum inside, but the apologetic kiss Wade pressed to his lips mollified him enough.

 

“I… _fuck_ , Petey,” Wade gushed breathlessly. Peter couldn’t stop his giggle and quickly dissolved into a pliant ball of soft laughter against Wade’s chest. Wade dropped his head down to rest on top of Peter’s covered hair and Pete could feel his fond smile through the material.

 

“Yeah, basically,” Peter said a moment later, his laughter petering out until all that was left was the soft smile on his lips. They stared at each other, and Peter drank in the sight of Wade sweaty and disheveled just as Wade did the same to him.

 

And maybe for the first time ever, Peter witnessed Wade hunch in on himself, subtle in a way like he was trying to hide how insecure he felt. Wade cleared his throat and chuckled nervously, putting his hands on his hips and shuffling his feet. It made Peter nervous.

 

“Well, uh…that was fun, but uh…I bet you’ve got better things to do -”

 

“Wade.” Peter deadpanned.

 

Wade froze and darted his head away, an obvious anxious gesture that made Peter want to wrap him up in a hug and never let go.

 

“Uh…yeah?” Wade said back. Peter couldn’t help but smile at Deadpool, which seemed to put Wade more at ease because his broad shoulders dropped as the tension leaked out of them.

 

With a deep breath, Peter took a step forward, quickly grabbing a hold of one of Wade’s holsters so he couldn’t run away, and pulled Wade into a hug. It was awkward for a second, Wade still and unmoving in his hold, before Wade relaxed completely with a loud ‘thank _fuck’_ and hugged Peter back tightly. It made Peter chuckle. What, had Deadpool _really_ thought that he was just going to leave him after having the best lay of his fucking **_life?_**

 

Not fucking likely.  

 

Distantly, Peter heard the muffled sound of his ringtone jingling from in his bag and groaned. He had been comfortable, dammit. And it was Mr. Stark, too; only one person on his phone had _Some Nights_  by fun as their ringtone.

 

“Oh, shit, DP. Hold on, my phone’s ringing. Give me two seconds.”

 

He reluctantly untangled his arms from Deadpool and jogged to the other side of the roof, smiling when Wade catcalled at his exposed ass. He reached his bag and, strictly for his own amusement, bent over to grab at the zipper. The aroused groan from behind him turned his smile into a smirk.       

 

He pulled his phone out and answered it.

 

“Hey - hey, Mr. Stark, what’s up?”

 

_“Yeah, cut the shit, kid, where are you?”_

__

Peter’s mind went blank. Oh, God, what had he done this time?

 

“Uh…I’m patrolling?”

 

_“Your self-allotted patrol time ended twenty minutes ago. Your Aunt just called me and said you hadn't come home yet. So I’ll ask again: where. Are. You?”_

 

And wasn’t **that** a shocker. A strangled noise escaped Peter’s throat as he flailed his arms in surprise. There was no way that much time had passed! Peter could have _sworn_ he had another hour to go, at _least._ Wade laughed at his antics behind him and Peter flipped Deadpool the bird over his shoulder.

 

“Wait, seriously? I am so sorry, I completely lost track of time!”

 

The line went silent, then Mr. Stark let out a sigh, _“Whatever. We’ll talk about this later, as in five minutes from now at the tower. Got it?”_

 

Peter nodded jerkily before remembering that Mr. Stark couldn’t see him and audibly voiced the affirmative. A few more seconds of silence passed before the older man grunted to show he’d heard and hung up.

 

Mind still reeling at the time, Peter pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at it before shaking his head and pulling up his messages to text Aunt May.

 

“Wade, hey, I’m really sorry but Mr. Stark is gonna kill me if I don’t get to the Tower asap. Seriously, I hate to leave after that because I really don’t want to but -”

 

A finger pressed against his lips and Peter stopped, eyes crossing to look at the appendage before trailing up to lock eyes with Wade.

 

Eyes.

 

Wade had blue eyes.

 

He stared, frozen. He hadn’t noticed Wade walk up to him during his rambling, too busy texting Aunt May to let her know he was gonna be home later than normal, so he had also failed to see that somewhere in his walk over Deadpool had shed his mask. But _man_ was he happy he saw it now.

 

He would be lying if Peter said he didn’t see Wade’s scars. It was impossible not to; his entire body was covered in them, from head to toe, his face as well, but they were a part of him just the same as his mouth was, his eyes were. They were closer to his being than the guns and katanas and who _knows_ whatever else, and Peter had gotten used to those _years_ ago.

 

But in the end it was just skin. A bit rougher than normal, a bit more tough looking, sure, but it was still _skin._ Skin stretched taught over Wade’s sharp features, his defined jawline, his slightly crooked nose, his high cheekbones. Peter truly thought Wade was positively gorgeous.

 

Peter really didn’t want to leave.

 

Looking into those blue eyes was quickly becoming addicting, but Peter couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was so focused on those pretty blues that he almost missed the amused grin on Wade’s face. When he did see, Peter flushed in embarrassment from his staring and cleared his throat, darting his eyes down with pink cheeks.

 

A deep chuckle made his eyes peer up at Wade again. Wade was looking at him almost lovingly (and _oh_ did that make Peter weak in the knees), a quirk to his brow and grin still firmly in place.

 

“I know you have to go, baby boy,” he cooed. Peter decided to ignore the happy burst in his chest those words gave him. “I could pick up what that conversation was about from your adorable flailing alone - hey! Don’t hit me, that was a compliment!”

 

Peter huffed anyway and crossed his arms. He was about to make some witty retort when his mind suddenly twinged with the memory of Mr. Stark’s time limit.

 

The one he gave him right around three minutes ago. Meaning he had only two minutes to get to the Tower. Shit.

 

He jumped into action, jerking away from Wade with a screech as he lunged for his bag. He yanked a pair of skinny jeans out of his bag (there was absolutely _no way_  on the face of this _planet_ he was going to swing around New York with his ass hanging out for anyone to see) and struggled into them, absentmindedly reaching out and using Wade’s shoulder to keep his balance.

 

“Oh no, oh no, I’m gonna be _so_ late, oh no, oh no.”

 

Peter barely remembered to zip up his fly and button his jeans before he stumbled back to Wade, pulling his face down and planting a lingering kiss on his lips.

 

“Mm, okay, I really gotta go! See ya!”

 

Peter ran towards the ledge as he slung his bag over his shoulder and wrestled his mask back down, and was just about to leap off when he stopped, hesitant, and turned back to Wade.

 

“...Hey,” he said.

 

Wade smiled at him patiently, mask still held loosely in his hand.

 

“Yeah, Petey?”

 

Okay. This was it. Peter took a deep breath and steeled himself.

 

“How about - next time, if you can catch me - I’ll let you see what’s under my mask. That sound good?”

 

Seeing Wade’s expression go from crisp amusement to intense shock was worth every last butterfly that rammed harshly into the sides of his stomach.

 

He smiled joyfully to himself.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes, then. Good night, Wade.”

 

And as Peter jumped off their roof, swinging giddily from skyscraper to skyscraper in the peacefulness of the night, he felt something click into place in his chest, his heart singing triumphantly at _finally_ finding what it had been searching for all along.

 

Peter could hardly wait for next time. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please, please, please always use lube and a condom when having sex unless you've decided otherwise with your partner. This is a fanfiction, so certain liberties have been taken, but please for the love of GOD don't take sex advice from a fucking fanfic. This has been a PSA.
> 
> Like I said: shameless smut. I personally think the ending is cute, tho. What do you guys think? Give me feedback because I've been out of the writing scene for a long time and want to come back better than ever. Help me out, homies
> 
> My [tumblr](http://xxhollyleahxx.tumblr.com/) in case you want to come talk to me, check up on my art stuff, look at spideypool shit, etc. Also my profile pic is actually me so you'll get to see what I look like lol


End file.
